


Falling Slowly

by LittleDetails87



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Dubious Consent, Everyone Is An Adult, M/M, New York City, Stiles Doesn't Know What The Fuck Is Going On, Stiles is an escape artist, Werewolf Mates, pheromone induced consent definitely dubious consent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-27
Updated: 2014-07-27
Packaged: 2018-02-10 14:10:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2028018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleDetails87/pseuds/LittleDetails87
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Normally werewolves make sure to court and woo their mates well in advance of the official summons.  That way, their mates are eagerly anticipating the letter from the government that informs them that they have been selected as an Alpha mate.  </p>
<p>But Derek never courts Stiles and Stiles never reads his mail so the entire process becomes a complete mess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Be Prepared

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I know, I should be working on Approaching Lightspeed. But I couldn't help myself. There's a show called "Married At First Sight" which is on one of those random Direct TV channels called FYI (I think, I was drinking tons of gin at the time, so who knows) that was about people who agreed to let experts pair them up with a compatible mate. The first time that couples meet is at the alter where they get married and have to figure out how to live with their new spouse. The show gets kind of hazy after that because I got drunk on Bombay Sapphire Gin by myself like a loser, but the concept of having to be committed to someone you don't know stuck with me. This story is based on that. 
> 
> Sterek pretty much works in any situation. 
> 
> Comments and critiques are always welcomed. I don't have a beta reader so I'm sure I miss A LOT of grammatical errs. Please do not hesitate to let me know what you honestly think. Thank you so much for reading!

Stiles got the notification on a Tuesday. It’s crammed in his tiny apartment mailbox, crumpled from careless handling, but even worn and wrinkled Stiles immediately knows it’s from the government. The envelope may not be a crisp, pristine white, but it has his full name on it, and that’s something not even his utility company does anymore. So of course it freaks him out. There’s only a few reasons why the government would be contacting him, and Stiles has a pretty good suspicion that it’s not for an IRS audit. 

So he does what he always does when faced with horrible news: he ignores it. It’s not the best method in the world, but it’s his method. He’s pretty good at denial. Pretty good at pretend and make-believe. He can push away the nasty parts of life and live with rose-colored glasses completely content in his forced ignorance. He did as much when his mother was dying; refused to acknowledged that she was never going to recover, that her days were dwindling, that she was going to lose her battle. It wasn’t until the day she died that he finally accepted that this was it. That there was no happy ending to the story. 

Reality, Stiles had determined very fast, sucked.

And it sucked even more when a couple of months later he walked up to his run down apartment complex to a horde of police, reporters, and what seemed to be private security guards. The place was completely swarmed and cut-off from the public. There was no way Stiles was going to be able to get in and finally relax at home. Seriously, what the fuck? It had been a _hard_ day at work, too.

It’s not like Stiles’ apartment is in a bad part of town. Sure, the place has seen better days, but the rent is decent and the neighborhood is full of mild-manner people just making their way through life. The drugs and gangs are blocks away. The situation is confusing as much as it’s annoying.

He gives a sigh and looks around the courtyard. He might as well find out _what_ the fuss is all about. There has to be one of his neighbors willing to dish out the news. The people might be mild-mannered but gossip is a vice even the mildest of humans share. 

It doesn’t take him long to find Mrs. Perkins leaning against the light post, cigarette clamped between her teeth as she fiddles with her smartphone. Stiles can see her husband snapping pictures with his phone a few feet away, more excited about the situation than his yapping Pomeranian that’s jumping around his ankles.

“Soooo....” Stiles drawls, leaning a shoulder against the post himself. “What’s the big deal?”

Mrs. Perkins doesn’t even spare him a glance, just gives a one shoulder shrug, “Hell if I know. One moment I’m making dinner the next I’ve got a werewolf banging on my door demanding I evacuate my apartment.”

“Werewolf?” Stiles blinks. Because really, that’s unexpected. Werewolves don’t come to this part of town. There’s no reason for it. Yeah, technically since the neighborhood is in the city it’s still part of the Hale territory, but the Pack usually avoids areas of high human population unless it’s beneficial to their business interests. Residential areas with no commerce nor forests nearby are really not their thing. At least, that’s what Stiles always believed. 

“Yep. Werewolves.” Mrs. Perkins confirms flatly. It’s clear that’s she’s not impressed with the development.

“Why?” Stiles can’t help the bewildered tone in his voice. Because, seriously, it’s _werewolves_.

Mrs. Perkins rolls her eyes, but still doesn’t glance up at him. “I already told you. I don’t know. You think I’m going to _question_ a wolf? I just got the fuck out of the apartment after grabbing my smokes.”

Stiles stays silent for a moment, mulling over the information. She’s got a point. It’s bad form to question a Hale Pack wolf. Not that that’s stop him before.

It seems Mrs. Perkins takes mercy on Stiles after his silence stretches on. She finally looks up from her phone and glances towards her husband and dog. “I heard them say they’re looking for someone. I didn’t catch much--Robby was being ridiculous as always--but apparently one of the Hale Alphas are really interested in finding this guy. Seemed like a matter of life or death.”

“Huh,” Stiles says thoughtfully, crossing his arms over his chest, “that guy must be a complete idiot. You can’t run and hide from werewolves. Everybody knows that.”

Stiles will only bitterly appreciate the irony of that statement way later in the day. They’re his famous last words.

***

More people gather to watch, but it quickly becomes clear that nothing exciting is happening. The building is still cordoned off, but most of the police have left and only three reporters remain. The wolves have stopped their search and seem to be in some type of group huddle that breaks apart with half of them jumping off in their cars and the other half walking back into the building. Stiles decides he might as well order pizza. It doesn’t look like he’s getting into his apartment any time soon. Which really sucks since his budget doesn’t really have room for a hotel in it. 

It’s looking more and more like he’s going to have to spend the night at the office. Which is probably against office rules, but whatever. He needs a place to sleep if his boss wants him anywhere near an acceptable level of functionality. 

Mr. Perkins has finally stopped taking pictures of the wolves and he’s sitting on the curb with his dog and Mrs. Perkins. They’ve already made arrangements to spend the night with one of their adult children. A perk, Stiles guesses, of being a parent. But no one is sure when their son is arriving since New York traffic sucks. They might want pizza too while they wait, so he orders enough for the three of them. Even if they don’t, Stiles won’t have any trouble finding people to share it with. After all, everybody loves pizza.

***

It’s been almost two hours since Stiles came home to find his building swarming with strangers when an honest-to-god _limo_ pulls up. It’s the first interesting thing that’s happened since the wolf huddle and Stiles watches unabashedly with the rest of his neighbors. He has a large pizza box opened on his lap with half the slices already gone. He’s working on his fifth slice when the limo door opens up and a man in an expensive suit jumps out. 

Correction. Not a _man_ but a _wolf_ if Stiles is any judge. All the Pack members seem to stream out of the building to greet the new man, doing their wolfy submission thing. It’s almost exactly like that one documentary Stiles saw on the Discovery channel in class. Stiles isn’t an expert on werewolf packs, but even the most dense of humans knows _something_ about them. He’s just happy he isn’t one. There’s just something about the whole rigid hierarchy thing that just rubs Stiles the wrong way. He has a hard enough time taking orders from his _dad_ and his dad is the _Sheriff_. 

He takes a swig out of the two liter bottle of Sprite that came with the pizza while trying to make out what the new, fancy-suit wolf is saying to the rest of the Pack. Of course, Stiles has never been the most coordinated of people so he manages to spill half of the bottle down his shirt. 

“FUCK!” He’s jumping up and shouting without even thinking, looking down in dismay at his dripping shirt and and soaked pants. His pizza is ruined, the cardboard box soggy in the quickly spreading puddle. It’s bad enough he doesn’t have a place to sleep tonight, but now he needs a shower, a change of clothes, _and _a new pizza. Stupid fucking werwolves and their weird manhunt searches.__

__He glances up with a glare at the Pack. His clumsiness is all his own fault, but the wolves are keeping him from his home where his shower and pajamas are. That’s totally _their_ fault. But his glare quickly turns from irritated to confused as he notices the new fancy-suit guy staring directly at him. Stiles looks behind himself, but there’s no one there. The Perkins have already left with their pizza and most of his neighbors have wandered off in search of dinner or new accommodations for the night. It’s just a few stragglers like Stiles who don’t want to spend money on a motel or transportation that are waiting around. _ _

__There’s no one behind him. He frowns and turns back. The wolf pack, lead by the new guy, are making there way towards him. There’s a very evident determination to their walk--no, it’s more of a stalk--that makes him feel a little uneasy._ _

__Maybe they want to ask him a question? Their search for the guy isn’t going so well, it would make sense for them to ask the locals for help._ _

__Stiles gives a sigh. Well, if they were finally asking for help than maybe they’ll be opening the building back up to everyone who lives there. He grimaces as he starts to wring his shirt out. Yeah, he _really_ wants to get back into his apartment._ _

__The fancy-suit guy’s gaze hasn’t left Stiles the entire time it takes him to walk over. It’s a little creepy how intense that stare is, but Stiles shrugs it off as a werewolf thing. The only werewolf Stiles knows is Scott and well, Scott pretty much fails at being a werewolf. For God’s sake, Scott’s a born-again _vegan_. _ _

__“Can I help you...?” He asks once the guy gets close enough. He’s wet, sticky, and suddenly so very tired._ _

__The guy doesn’t answer but keeps staring as he holds out a hand to one of the wolfs on his right side. Instantly, the wolf hands him a piece of paper that the guy studies before carefully examining Stiles again. It’s all starting to really piss Stiles off. He hates being ignored and this is just blatantly rude._ _

__“Um, hello? Can I help you?” He snaps out again, suppressing an urge to flick Sprite off his hands and at the wolf._ _

__“How long have you been out here?” The guy asks completely unfazed by Stiles’ irritation._ _

__The question catches Stiles off guard, but he shrugs and answers anyway, “About two hours or so. I wasn’t really paying attention when I arrived. There were a lot more police and reporters around when I got here.”_ _

__The man nods his head once, “I see.” His voice is calm, but Stiles is suddenly feeling wary and alert. Something isn’t right. All his spidey-senses are tingling._ _

__The man turns from Stiles to face the rest of the wolves, “So no one thought to check the crowd of gawkers outside the building? Because apparently that’s where he’s been this entire time: Right. Under. Your. Noses.” His voice is still calm, but there’s definitely a dangerous edge to it that makes Stiles’ hair stand up._ _

__He starts to cautiously back up. If there’s going to be a werewolf fight than Stiles wants no part of it._ _

__“Instead,” the new guy continues, “I’m called out of an important business meeting to clean up this fiasco.” He pauses and Stiles can literally see all the other wolves _wilt_ with guilt. He didn’t even _know_ wolves could do that. “Believe me, this lapse of judgement _will_ be addressed at the next pack meeting. You’re all dismissed.”_ _

__Oooookay. Weird werewolf politics going on. Definitely time for Stiles to jet out. He can wash up at the bathroom at work. See if anyone left any clothes around that he can borrow. Hell, he can even try to wash out his shirt and pants in the sink at work. Or--better yet--he can just _buy_ some new fucking clothes. It’s not like he doesn’t have a job. Whatever he ends up doing, it better be far from this werewolf mess._ _

__Casually turning around, Stiles starts heading towards the subway. It’s a bit of a walk to get there, but Stiles’ got the time for it. At least, that was his plan, until a very firm, strong hand grabs his shoulder halting him._ _

__“Exactly where do you think you’re going?” It’s the creepy werewolf._ _

__“Um, heading out? It doesn’t look like you guys are going to let me back in my apartment any time soon.” Stiles tries to shrug the werewolf’s hand off but, surprise surprise, it doesn’t budge._ _

__“After all the fuss you just caused? I think not.” The hand starts to yank him backwards, and Stiles flails a little, trying not to fall. Seriously, what the fuck? So rude._ _

__“Hey!” he protests, as he catches his balance._ _

__“Well, come on. Stop dilly-dallying. You’ve already wasted enough of my time.” The wolf’s tone is finally something other than calm: it’s annoyed._ _

__“What the fuck, dude! You can’t just haul me around! I refuse to go with you! This is kidnapping!”_ _

__The wolf gives him a sharp, hard yank forward and Stiles finds himself by the limo. He’s completely confused, but he’s also angry. Because fuck this. All he wants is a shower and to zone out watching hockey. Not dealing with confusing werewolves on power trips._ _

__“Kidnapping?” The guy asks, sounding amused despite his annoyance, “I would hardly go as far as calling this that. More of a retrieval.”_ _

__“Retrieval. Kidnapping. Sounds like you’re splitting hairs.” Stiles snaps. “And seriously, get your fucking hands _off_ me.”_ _

__The guy doesn’t listen and instead forces a struggling Stiles into the limo. Stupid werewolf strength. Stiles is panting hard and the guy hasn’t so much as ruffled his suit. It’s not fair._ _

__The guy gets into the limo behind him, shutting the door firmly. Stiles throws himself against the opposite door, trying the handle desperately. It’s locked with no obvious way to unlock it. He’s trapped. The limo starts up and Stiles feels like he’s going to throw up._ _

__“Really now,” the wolf says as he settles himself in his seat, “all these dramatics are unnecessary. You could have saved yourself and everyone else a lot of trouble if you had just answered the summons like a normal person.”_ _

__Stiles stops trying to figure a way to unlock the door and whips his head around. “Summons?” he sputters. “You mean, this is because I didn’t reply to a jury summons?” Oh my God. His dad was going to _die_. Trust the Sheriff’s kid to ignore his jury summons._ _

__Or maybe not. Because the guy looks at him in bewilderment. “Jury summons? Why would you even think that?”_ _

__“Because what other summons _is_ there?” _ _

__The guy sighs and massages his temples. Just like how his dad does it when Stiles is being extra dense. He almost feels guilty but then remembers that this guy just _kidnapped_ him. _ _

__“Didn’t you _read_ the letter they mailed you? It was confirmed by the mail carrier to having reached you.”_ _

__Stiles frowns, “I have no idea what you are talking about.” He starts to rack his memory for anything that deals with a letter of summons but comes up blank. Hope starts to blossom in his chest. Maybe this is all a mistake. They must have confused him for someone else._ _

__The guy just stares at him, frowning in concentration before whipping out his smartphone. He taps it frantically before stopping to read it. “Hmmm,” he says, “It says here that the letter was sent and that it was confirmed by a live witness that you received it from the mailbox.” He glances up to stare at Stiles, “But you aren’t lying when you say you don’t know what I’m talking about. Did you not read your mail?”_ _

__And that sparks a memory from two months ago. When he received that official letter that was addressed to his real name. The name not even his father used anymore. The letter he had meant to open but forgot about until he accidentally threw it away. The letter he had shrugged over and promptly deemed not important. The letter he had never read and was now biting him in the ass. Stiles was _really_ wishing he had read that letter._ _

__“Ah, ha ha ha,” he says weakly, feeling embarrassed, “I might have received something official looking...and accidentally threw it away?” He can’t help but make the last part a question, even as he fidgets with guilt. Did his credit information get stolen and someone pulled a loan from the werewolves in his name? Did he somehow owe them money?_ _

__There’s another reason why the werewolves would be so interested in him, but Stiles’ mind shies away from that possibility. He’d much rather focus on something he can control--like paying back a loan--than the _other_ possibility._ _

__The wolf gives him a flat stare that borders on incredulous. “You threw it away?” He asks._ _

__Stiles stares at his fingernails. His cuticles really need some work. “Um, yeah. I _meant_ to read it. I just never did. I didn’t mean to throw it away, though.” He glances up at that last part, hoping the wolf can see how earnest he is. _ _

__The wolf is definitely not impressed with him if his stare is saying anything._ _

__“So, uh, do I owe you guys money or something?” Stiles asks as the silence stretches out to an unbearable length._ _

__The wolf gives an amused snort, lips curled up in a smirk, “Or something.”_ _

__“Like what?” Stiles curiosity is killing him and he’s desperate to know what was in that letter. He’s cursing himself silently for not reading it when he had the chance. How stupid could he be?_ _

__The wolf just shakes his head, looking back at his phone, “If you don’t know than _I’m_ certainly not going to be the one to tell you. I was only told to fetch you, not educate you on matters you should already know about.”_ _

__“Oh come on, dude,” Stiles wheedles, desperation very clear in his voice. He’s too nervous to feel any embarrassment over how pathetic he’s sounding._ _

__The wolf looks over at him, total amusement clear on his face, “Oh don’t worry. You’ll find out soon enough.”_ _

__And no matter how he begs and pleads, Stiles can’t get anything more out of the wolf. So he just leans back--confused, sticky, and tired--and waits for the limo ride to end._ _

__His dad was probably going to still kill him for this. Whatever _this_ happened to be._ _

__***_ _

__Stiles had fallen asleep so it was with a jolt that he wakes up to the hand gently shaking him. Blinking, he stares up at the unfamiliar guy bending down to look at him. The guy’s big. Dark skinned and handsome, head shaved and biceps bulging through his shirt. He looks like a warrior, like someone who could bench press buildings and snap MMA fighters in half. But he merely smiles softly while Stiles gapes at him._ _

__“I’m Boyd and you must be Mr. Stilinski.”_ _

__Stiles takes a moment to compose himself before getting out of the car. “Just call me Stiles,” he murmurs._ _

__Boyd nods his head gravely. “It’s nice to meet you Stiles. Please follow me.”_ _

__Boyd takes him into the grand mansion that the limo has stopped in front of. The guy who threw him into the vehicle is nowhere in sight so Stiles supposes he must have left before Boyd got him. Good riddance. That wolf was nothing but creepy._ _

__The mansion is beautiful and reeks of money and class. Stiles feels decidedly out of place. He wasn’t poor, not even close, but he wasn’t rich either. He was a very comfortable middle class, so being around something that seemed fit for a movie star or royalty made him decidedly uncomfortable. This entire situation was making him uncomfortable._ _

__It felt like eons before Boyd finally lead him into a room. There was a fire blazing in a magnificent marble fireplace that took up an entire wall. Elegant yet comfortable couches made a “U” around the fire place with coffee tables in front of each couch. The room was comfortable and made for large gatherings, but at the moment only ten or so people were present._ _

__Boyd walked confidently to one of the couches, sinking down next to a beautiful blonde that curled herself around him. Stiles walked a couple of stops into the room before just stopping, feeling awkward and ungainly. He wished he was anywhere but here._ _

__One of the ladies on the couches stood up and directed a gentle smile at Stiles. “Welcome, Mr. Stilinski,” she began, stopping for a moment as Boyd quietly said something from the couch. “Ah, of course. Welcome Stiles,” she corrects herself, still smiling._ _

__“Uh, hi,” he says lamely. He’s a deer and all those eyes staring at him are the headlights about to run him over. He’s so screwed._ _

__“Please,” the lady says, “Take a seat.” She indicates an empty couch for him to sit on._ _

__He hesitantly moves forward and sits down. He feels like he’s about to shatter, his nerves are pulled so tight. He knows this lady. Her face is plastered across the news all the time. She’s the Prime Alpha of the Hale Pack. Stiles glances around, eyes dawning with realization. If that’s Talia Hale, then the guy who got him has to be Peter Hale. The resemblance between the two siblings is uncanny. Stiles can’t believe he didn’t recognize Peter Hale immediately._ _

__He just spent an entire limo ride with Peter fucking Hale. Holy shit._ _

__And there’s Laura and Cora Hale--the two sisters that had the media completely wrapped around their little finger. So that must mean that’s Derek Hale sitting next to them. The stern, broody man who’s leaning forward and staring so intensely at Stiles he can feel it straight to his bones. Derek is even more handsome and breathtaking than his photos. It makes Stiles lightheaded._ _

__He tears his eyes away and focuses on Alpha Hale again._ _

__Scott was never going to believe that he met the Hale inner family today. It was going to blow his mind._ _

__Talia didn’t seemed bothered by Stiles’ wandering attention. She smiles indulgently at him as she walks over to sit down on the cushion next to his._ _

__“Peter has just told us that you have no idea what’s going on. Is this true?” She asks him._ _

__Stiles nods, but Talia just stares at him expectantly. Oh right. She wants him to actually say it. Werewolf polygraph abilities and everything. “Yeah, that’s right.”_ _

__Her smile becomes bigger and amusement shows in her eyes. “I can only imagine how confusing this all is for you.”_ _

__“Well, it hasn’t been a picnic, that’s for sure.” Stiles quips back._ _

__“Tell me, what do you know about Alpha mates?” Talia asks casually, out of nowhere._ _

__“I know that they happen,” Stiles says cautiously, eyeing her. He has no idea what her angle is._ _

__Talia nods, “That they do. More often then humans realize.”_ _

__Stiles just stares at her lost._ _

__“And sometimes the mate isn’t a werewolf,” Talia says slowly._ _

__Stiles nods, because duh. He’s been through school and knows his basic history like everybody else._ _

__“Sometimes the mate doesn’t even know his Alpha, but the Alpha knows the mate, can feel the mate deep in their soul, their very being.”_ _

__Stiles stares at her, realization dawning on him. He can’t help the horror in his voice when he chokes out, “Oh my God. Are you saying _I’m_ your _mate_?”_ _

__Talia opens her mouth, completely flummoxed, “What?”_ _

__“I mean, you’re really, really, really hot for your age, and I can’t believe you have three grown children, because really, lady, you don’t look like you have had three kids, BUT I’m completely and totally gay. I can’t be with you. I really appreciate the offer and everything, but maybe I should go.” Stiles has no idea what’s coming out of his mouth but he’s panicking and he really needs to leave. Now._ _

__He surges up and heads to the door, but Talia grabs his arm to stop him. “Wait Stiles! You’ve misunderstood!”_ _

__But Stiles can’t hear the words anymore. A panic attack is hitting him hard and fast. He can’t breathe, he can’t think, he’s going to die._ _

__He’s barely aware of everything that’s going around him. He’s huddled on the floor doing his best not to pass out. This is too much._ _

__But then he feels a presence beside. Warm hands rubbing on his arms and back. Soft stubble rubbing against his face and a voice growling in his ear, firm and comforting._ _

__“Breathe, Stiles,” it says._ _

__And Stiles starts to breathe, melting against the warm body next to him. It takes a few minutes but he’s finally managed to control his attack. He becomes aware of his surroundings slowly. He’s practically in somebody’s lap, strong arms holding him tight against a warm chest, hands rubbing soothingly against his stomach and sides. His strained panting has settled into controlled breaths, and he rolls his head to the side, still completely leaning on the body behind him, to catch a glimpse of the person holding him._ _

__It’s Derek Hale. It’s Derek Hale who’s whispering reassurances into his ear and holding him so tight and firmly. It’s Derek Hale who soothed him out of a panic attack and back to reality. It’s Derek Hale who makes Stiles feel so safe and comforted._ _

__Derek Hale is the last person Stiles expected. He doesn’t know what to make of the situation._ _

__“Better?” Derek asks, lips nearly touching his ear. The hot breath tickles and makes Stiles shiver slightly. Derek’s arms constrict a little in response. It’s all so surreal._ _

__Stiles swallows before answering, “Yeah, I’m good.” He gives a slight cough. “Thanks for, uh, helping me.”_ _

__He doesn’t see it, but Stiles can feel it when Derek gives a smile, “I’ll always help you, Stiles. No matter what.”_ _

__“Uh, that’s really nice of you.” He has no idea what’s going on. But his world has narrowed down to Derek only. He’s the only thing that matters right now._ _

__“Stiles,” Derek says gently, “my mother isn’t your mate.”_ _

__“Oh.” He feels pretty foolish for that earlier assumption. Everyone already knows that Talia Hale has a mate. He’s the father of her children, _Derek’s_ father, and he’s in this very room. Stiles obviously wasn’t thinking very clearly. “Then what’s this all about?”_ _

__Derek presses a soft kiss against Stiles’ head. It melts him into a puddle. He’s being completely pathetic but there’s nothing he can do about it. Nothing he _wants_ to do right now. He likes where he is: safe in Derek’s arms._ _

__“Stiles, if you had read the letter than you would have known that _I’m_ your mate.”_ _

__Out of everything Stiles had expected for today that was the last thing. He knows he should feel outraged and indignant. He’s been forced out of his apartment, kidnapped, and induced into a panic attack over an Alpha claiming him as a mate. An Alpha Stiles has never met before. It’s a complete violation._ _

__But Stiles doesn’t have the energy for outrage. He’s tired and overwhelmed and Derek feels so good that all Stiles wants to do is sink into him and forget about the world. There’s a little voice in the back of his head that’s screaming that his reaction is not normal. That something’s not right, but Stiles ignores it for the moment. He can’t deal. So instead he turns himself so he can rub his face into Derek’s chest, inhaling the comforting scent, and lulling himself into a dreamlike state._ _

__He completely checks out of reality at that point. He feels Derek pick him, but he doesn’t care. There are voices flowing all around him, but Stiles keeps his eyes closed and face pressed into Derek’s chest._ _

__It’s only moments later that he’s placed onto a soft bed. He blinks his eyes open and watches as Derek moves around the room. He gathers some clothes that he throws on the bed before disappearing into the bathroom. A second later he’s back with a washcloth and a bottle of water. Sitting next to Stiles on the bed he smiles down, running the back of his hand against Stiles’ cheek. Stiles can’t help it when his eyes flutter close and he leans into Derek’s touch. It just feels so good. He whimpers a little when Derek removes his hand._ _

__“Shhh, baby,” Derek shushes softly, “I’m still here.” He starts to pull at Stiles’ shirt, maneuvering it off of his body to be carelessly thrown to the floor. The washcloth is warm when Derek moves it against his skin, slowly cleaning up the dried Sprite and massaging Stiles’ muscles into relaxed putty. He’s completely blissed out._ _

__He doesn’t know when Derek removes his shoes, socks or pants. Doesn’t know when his ratty boxers are discarded. All he knows is the soothing caress of the washcloth, the relief that comes with being clean, and the almost desperate need he has of Derek’s touch. His skin goosebumps where the cool air meets the dampness from the washcloth, but Derek rubs his hot hand against it, taking away the chill. It has to be the best thing Stiles has ever felt._ _

__“Look at you,” Derek croons, “So pretty and perfect. You’re made just for me, baby.” Derek leans forward and softly kisses Stiles’ shoulder, his lips moving across his collar bone to his neck. Derek pauses there, inhaling deeply, before nibbling at the base of Stiles’ neck making Stiles keen loudly. His hips jerk upwards automatically and Stiles just feels an all consuming _need_._ _

__Derek continues his litany of sweet nothings, this time against the skin of Stiles’ neck, “So fucking perfect. You’re my gorgeous baby, aren’t you? Going to make you completely mine. Going to make sure everyone knows you belong to me.” He pulls his head back so that he can lick across Stiles’ lips unexpectedly. “Going to make sure even _you_ know you belong to me,” he whispers into Stiles gasping mouth._ _

__Stiles tries to bring his face up for a kiss, but Derek’s hands cradle his face, keeping him still. The washcloth has been dropped to the side of the bed, and Derek has moved so that he’s straddling Stiles’ prone form. Derek’s hands are stroking Stiles’ face and he has to close his eyes because Derek is staring so intently and lovingly at him that it completely overcomes him. He is so out of his element right now that he has no idea what to do except just to let his body react. He’ll be mortified by this all later._ _

__“Derek,” Stiles breathes out, voice broken with need. It seems to ignite a hunger lodged deep inside the Alpha wolf. Derek’s eyes flash red, and a soft growl erupts. And then, too fast for Stiles to follow, Derek’s mouth is pressed hard against him. The kiss is everything that Stiles has ever thought a kiss could be and more. It’s better than anything he’s ever had before. Better than Heather. Better than Danny. Better than Jackson. And even, blasphemous as this was to say, better than Lydia. Derek takes complete charge, lips moving against Stiles’ lips, tongues twining together. It’s dirty, ravenous, and filled with a longing that Stiles never knew existed within him._ _

__He’s being utterly consumed. And he doesn’t care. He’ll let Derek have whatever he wants as long as he never stops kissing him like this. Never stops touching him._ _

__***_ _

__Derek smiles fondly at the sleeping man clutching his arm. It hadn’t taken much to wear Stiles out. A little bit of a massage, a little making out, and Stiles was a pliant puddle of goo in his hands. It had been with great reluctance that Derek had dressed him in pajamas. The shirt and pants were far too big for the human, but they were covered in Derek’s scent and smelled completely right on Stiles. It was only another marker that Stiles belonged to him._ _

__It wouldn’t be long before he claimed Stiles as his mate, but he had to do that when the human was clear headed. His mother would disapprove otherwise._ _

__He gently disentangles his arm from Stiles surprisingly tight grip. The young man makes a disgruntle noise in his sleep, but Derek soothes it away with a kiss to his cheek. It pleases his wolf that his mate is already responding so readily to his touch and presences. It means that the bond is true and the claim will take easily swiftly, despite any protests Stiles may have when he’s in full cognitive control of his mind and body. Stiles belongs to him. Regardless of any protests that anyone, including Stiles himself, might throw out._ _

__He will not be thwarted again when it comes to taking what is rightfully his. He’s waited far too long for this._ _

__Derek straightens out his clothing and exits the room. His mother may have let him leave with his mate after the poor thing had a panic attack, but she would expect an update as soon as possible. The sooner he reported back to her the sooner he could go back to Stiles._ _

__**_ _

__His family is waiting for him in living room, surrounded by members from the inner circle of the Pack. Everyone stares at him expectantly as he walks in, knowing grins on their faces. They can smell the arousal on him. They can smell _Stiles’_ arousal on him. He really doesn’t want to answer any of their questions._ _

__“Welcome back, Derek,” his mother says wryly from where she’s snuggled against his father. “I see that you’ve managed to convince your little mate that I have no interested in him romantically.”_ _

__Derek shrugs, feeling slightly irritated, He’s not in the mood for being teased right now. He just wants to get back to Stiles. “He was nervous and completely ignorant of the situation.”_ _

__Peter snorts and shakes his head. “That’s because he didn’t even _bother_ to read the summons that was sent to him.”_ _

__Derek shrugs, “He’s an independent spirit. But we knew that long before we even sent the summons.”_ _

__Talia waves a hand lethargically, “He’s a young, free spirit. These things happen. We can’t expect a human that’s not associated with a pack to understand the intricacies of werewolf social structure. He’ll learn and we’ll just have to be patient while he adjusts.”_ _

__A tension Derek didn’t even realize he had eased at those words. His mother and Alpha understood. That was all that mattered in the end._ _

__Derek had known Stiles was his mate the moment the man had stepped foot in New York. The landing of the plane on Hale territory had sent a stabbing pulse of electricity through his soul. It had taken months for him to narrow the source down to the galvanizing young man who was just starting his freshmen year of college at NYU. Derek had meant to approach Stiles then, to court and properly woo him so that when the summons was sent out Stiles would be eagerly anticipating it. Instead the Pack Wars had happened intertwined with the whole Argent fiasco. It was all Derek could do to stay alive with his family while defending their territory and Pack. There had been no time for mates or romance._ _

__But now the conflicts were over. Enemies were either dead or in hiding and the Hale Pack had come out even stronger than ever with Talia Hale ruling the east coast while maintaining strong influence in the west coast. Two years had past since Kate Argent had last been seen and finally, the Hales felt comfortable to move on._ _

__And moving on had meant it was time to summon Derek’s mate to the pack. Time for the claiming. Derek would be thirty in a few months and werewolf law was clear on the fact that Alphas were to be fully bonded before their thirtieth birthday. Unbonded Alphas were wild and unpredictable, lacking the strong anchor a mate provided. It was a recipe for disaster._ _

__“So,” Laura began, a huge grin splitting her face, “Is Stiles just as smitten with you as you are with him?”_ _

__Derek fought down a blush. Trust Laura to bring _that_ up. Everyone had watched his mate have panic attack. Everyone had watched as Derek had flooded his mate’s senses with an overdose of pheromones, leaving Stiles high and drunk on the scent. Any mate would be completely enchanted with their wolf when floating on that high. The real challenge would be to make Stiles fall in love with him even without the pheromones. _ _

__His mother rescued him from answering, “Laura, that was completely unnecessary. I’m sure Stiles will be delighted with Derek as soon as he gets to know him. We aren’t going to pressure either of them during this process.”_ _

__Laura and Cora both huff in annoyance but agree when Talia shoots them hard look._ _

__Derek’s father smiles at his son reassuringly. “Don’t worry, everything will work out for the best, but it’ll take some hard work to get there. Why don’t you return to your mate and get some rest? We just wanted to check to make sure you were doing alright.”_ _

__Talia nods beside her husband, “Rest is exactly what you and Stiles need. Sleep well, honey. We’ll see you for brunch tomorrow.”_ _

__Derek hugs his parents goodnight and gently trails a hand over the rest of the pack as he makes his way to the door. He’s feeling anxious to return to Stiles but grateful his family seems to supportive and understanding of the precarious situation he’s in with his mate._ _

__His father’s words stick with him as he curls up next to a serenely sleeping Stiles: everything was going to work out._ _

__Those words give him a sense of peace that allow him to fall into a restful sleep._ _


	2. Bloody Palms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles makes his frantic escape in the early morning light. Derek sleeps through it like a log.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I lied. This story isn't going to be two chapters. I think it's going to be more like five, but I'm not sure. 
> 
> Please let me know if you spot any mistakes or inconsistencies. I don't have a beta reader so I'm sure there will be quite a few that I've missed. I tend to do most of my writing with either a Blood Mary or gin gimlet so my proofreading skills aren't that great.
> 
> Thank you for all the support I've received on the story! I really appreciate it. Once again, all comments and critiques are welcomed.

When Stiles wakes up it’s in a complete panic. He’s late for work. He can feel it in his bones--bones that are protesting the jerky movements that propel him out of the bed and flat on his face on the floor. The fall doesn’t hurt as much as it should because instead of falling on a thin, fraying rug he lands on carpet that’s so lush and soft it puts his college futon bed to shame. 

Slowly pushing himself up Stiles stares in bafflement at the unfamiliar room. It’s big and magnificent; like one of those luxury suites fancy hotels advertise. Something that is not only completely out of Stiles’s budget but also completely out of his realm of experience. For goodness sake, his dad is a sheriff not Daddy Warbucks. Their idea of a fancy hotel room is anything a hundred bucks a night. 

The room doesn’t look like it’s a hotel, despite all it’s splendor and luxury. The room is personalized with family photos and trinkets everywhere. It looks lived in and comfy despite it’s size. But the biggest clue that Stiles has that this place is not a hotel is the sleeping body that’s sprawled on the bed he just fell out of. 

In an instant, all the memories from last night hit him like a flood. With them the memories bring a rush of emotions: confusion, fear, mortification, but most of all anger. Stiles is furious. Completely, absolutely fucking _pissed_. Because, okay, he didn’t read his mail. So what? A lot of people don’t read their mail. That’s what phone calls and _email_ were for. How did the hell did the government expect just one _measly_ notification to be enough? 

And the Hales. Fuck them. Fuck their arrogance. Fuck their condescending attitude. Their patronizing bullshit. Fuck whatever _stupid_ justifications they gave themselves that allowed them to _clear_ an _entire apartment complex_ like it was no big deal. 

It _was_ a big deal to Stiles. And he wasn’t going to just sit back and take it. They thought they could just swoop in and kidnap him? Well, fuck you very much for the hospitality, but Stiles really was going to have to pass on extending the visit. 

He stands up as quietly as he can. Derek is still fast asleep on the bed and Stiles wants him to stay that way. The last thing he needs is the wolf to wake up and try to _stop_ him. That would ruin everything.

Although, seeing how peaceful the wolf looks asleep sends a surge of righteous fury through his body. The wolf had molested him last night as if it was no big deal. Stiles didn’t know what Derek had done to make him so pliant, but there was no doubt in his mind that his behavior last night had been influenced by something other than his own free will. That fucking _bastard_. 

It’s all Stiles can do not to try to grab one of the expensive looking vases off a side table and try to smash it into Derek’s sleeping face. They’d see how handsome Derek looked with broken glass sticking out of him.

Stiles takes a deep breath and clenches his fist. He doesn’t move for a moment, not until he’s sure he won’t actually follow through with that thought. He doesn’t have the luxury of being impulsive right now. Not when he’s trying to escape.

Instead, Stiles looks around for his clothes. The most important things he needs are his shoes, cell phone, and wallet. His pants and shirt would be nice too, but as long as he has the first three items this escape attempt would go so much smoothly.

Luckily he finds everything in a pile on the ground by Derek’s side of the bed. Moving as quickly as possible while still being quiet, Stiles throws off the shirt and sweats that Derek must have dressed him in. The clothes, although casual, are made out of fine material and probably cost more than his monthly rent. 

He doesn’t even bother with his boxers, and just yanks his stiff pants up. The khakis are definitely stained with dirt, pizza sauce, and Sprite. It’s going to be a bitch to get them cleaned up enough that his boss doesn’t freak out. Who knew there was such a strict dress code at the lab?

The shirt’s not much better. Thank goodness it wasn’t one of his super nice button-ups, just a regular blue polo he bought on clearance. It had looked pretty spiffy under the lab coat, but if it wouldn’t be a big deal if it was ruined. Not like the pants. Those had been expensive.

The clothes were uncomfortable--crinkling a little from being stiff with dried sugar that the Sprite had left behind--but they were _his_ and he was already feeling ten times better just by wearing them. He patted his pants and was relieved to find his wallet and phone still firmly in the pockets. His shoes were a little harder to find--one had rolled under the bed the other had been flung nearly across the room--but soon he was dressed and ready to go.

This is where it got a little trickier. Stiles had no idea what the layout of the mansion was. He had no idea where _in_ the mansion he was. The exits could be anywhere. He could waste tons of precious time just by wandering the halls looking for a way out. Time in which Derek could wake up and find him gone or another wolf could stumble across him and restrain him. Either way, leaving through conventional means didn’t seem like the most prudent option. 

Looks like it was time to channel his inner Spiderman because it seemed the best way to get out of this hell hole was through the balcony. 

Stiles gives Derek one more glance to confirm that the wolf is still asleep (Stiles had no idea _how_ the wolf wasn’t awake, he thought that werewolf super hearing would make them super light sleepers, but whatever, he wasn’t complaining) and headed towards the balcony all the way over at the far end of the room. 

Of course Derek would have his own personal balcony in his room. Stiles can’t help but roll his eyes at how ridiculous and overtop this entire place is. Werewolves have to be some of the most dramatic weirdos in the whole world. He’s sure of it. Who else thinks it’s a great idea to kidnap a stranger for a mate? Idiotic Alphas, that’s who.

He’s in luck when he reaches the balcony door--it opens smoothly and silently at his touch. Two of his fears--the door being locked or the door being squeaky and waking the Alpha up--are put to rest. Which is good, because he has enough nerves as it is for the second part of his plan.

He gently shuts the door and surveys the balcony porch. Its as posh and splendid as Derek’s room. There is a small porch set made out of curlicue black iron that matches the decorative curls and twists of the porch railing. There are mini trees in huge mosaic pots and smaller urns bursting with flowers expertly placed around the balcony, giving the space the feel of a well kept garden. It’s all so pretty and tasteful. Stiles absolutely hates it. 

He needs to get the fuck out of this place.

He peers over the edge of the railing and can’t stop the little sound of distress from leaving his mouth. Derek’s room is apparently on the fourth floor (why did they even _need_ four floors? That was like, completely excessive!) overlooking a larger garden with a bubbling fountain. As pretty as the view is, the ground is a long ways down and Stiles stomach does a little drop. He grips the railing tighter and tries to calm himself down. 

He needs to focus. Something that’s harder to do since he hasn’t taken his ADHD medication, but it’s not impossible. He closes his eyes.

Breathe in. 

Breathe out. 

Visualize the goal. 

Visualize the steps needed to be taken to achieve the goal. 

Visualize accomplishing the goal. 

Calm down--steady the nerves-- and just believe. 

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

He opens his eyes feeling ready. He doesn’t let himself think about falling; doesn’t let himself think about failing. He doesn’t have room in his thoughts for anything that will hinder him. 

It’s with a calculating eye that Stiles studies the different paths down from the balcony. Jumping is obviously not an option, and neither is climbing down a drain pipe since there’s none to be seen. But, there’s a ton of climbing roses and ivy that are thriving against the side of the building. They are a complete mansion cliche, but for once Stiles is grateful that the Hales were unoriginal enough to fall into the stereotype. 

The ivy and climbing roses won’t be strong enough to hold Stiles’ weight by themselves, but, in order for climbing roses to climb they needed to be attached to something like a trellis. Roses didn’t have the same grasping tendrils that vines had, and for that, Stiles counted his lucky stars. Hopefully the trellis, along with the natural nooks and crannies of the wall, will be enough to hold his weight until he makes it to the ground. Otherwise, he was going to have a very nasty trip to the hospital.

Swinging his legs over the railing, Stiles feels slightly like a stereotype himself. Like some romantic hero escaping the nest of the villainous bandits before they can cause more destruction. He blatantly does NOT compare himself to Rapunzel or any other Disney princess in need of rescuing. Because fuck that. Stiles doesn’t need anyone to rescue him.

The trellis is made out of thin metal wires that are firmly attached to the wall. For a moment Stiles thinks it’s going to break on him as he gingerly puts his foot down. It holds. So Stiles starts to carefully shimmy down the wall, hands still holding most of his weight as they clench the porch railing. Soon he’s far enough down that he needs to let go of the rails and clutch the edge of balcony floor. His heart starts beating in over time and he has to take a moment to do his breathing exercises before he’s ready to continue.

Before he’s ready to let go from the balcony edge, he scraps his foot up and down the wall, trying to make sure he has a firm step. The trellis is great, but Stiles doesn’t want to trust his entire weight on the wire contraption. If he can just find a piece of wall that he can rest his weight on...

It takes a few seconds, but his foot connects with a piece of stone that’s warped enough from time and weather that it’s jutting out further from the wall than the other stones. Stiles gently rests his weight on that foot, testing to see if it will hold...and it does. He feels almost giddy with relief as he lets go of the balcony edge with first one hand, then the other, before grabbing the trellis wire. He moves his other foot down and does the process of looking for a stone foothold all over again.   
It’s a slow way to climb. The entire time he’s hyper aware that just one false move will send him falling straight to the ground, and as a human, he wouldn’t be able to bounce back from that. But he stays calm, stays focus, and doesn’t make any hasty movements. As important as speed is for this escape attempt to work, it won’t mean anything if he falls.

He’s about five feet from the ground when he finally feels comfortable enough to just jump down. His hands are aching and cramped from how tightly he’s been grabbing the trellis. He’s pretty sure they’re bleeding too from where the wire cut into his palms. The roses, as beautiful as they are to look at, still have their thorns which tore his clothing and scrapped him up pretty good. He’s sure he looks like a complete mess, but at least he made it.

He rolls to his knees and shakily stands up, flexing his hands with a grimace, and staring with a detached fascination at the fourth floor balcony. It was so high up there. If he hadn’t just made the climb down he wouldn’t believe that it was even possible for him to do it. That really _was_ some Spiderman shit. 

He shakes his head with a small grin, pretty impressed with himself. Instead of getting his Bachelors of Science in Chemical and Bimolecular Engineering, he totally should have gone the James Bond route. He was definitely superhero/super-spy material.

Rolling his shoulders, Stiles looks around the garden. When he was up on the balcony he thought he saw what could potentially be the front of the house on the right. Going left seemed to lead to a huge forest, and being in a forest was the last thing Stiles needed to be doing when surrounded by werewolves. He quickly jogs towards the right, trying to make up for lost time from when he was slowly climbing down the wall. 

It doesn’t take long for him to make it to the front of the mansion. He hasn’t seen nor heard anyone yet, which isn’t saying much since he doesn’t have the same kind of senses that werewolves have, however, he’s hoping that everyone is having a lazy morning. It’s Saturday after all, and most rich people don’t work on Saturdays. At least, that’s the impression the media has given him. Stiles will be the first to admit that he knows jack shit about rich people. 

Crouching behind some hedges, Stiles takes a moment to study the front of the mansion. He hadn’t had a chance to really look at it when Boyd had grabbed him yesterday, but the front of the house is just as imposing as Stiles’ first impression made it seem. He can’t imagine what it’s like to live there. Doesn’t want to imagine it, because if there’s one thing Stiles is sure of, that mansion is no real home. It’s more like an insane asylum or something equally as grim.

Tearing his eyes away from the front of the building, he scans the rest of the driveway, looking for a garage or vehicle or anything that can help him out. The garage happens to be about twenty feet away from the mansion, off to the side and hidden by a grove of pine trees. Stiles would have missed it or dismissed it as a guest house or something if it hadn’t been for the way the driveway broadened out from where it connected to the building. The three huge garage doors also make it quite clear what the purpose of the building is for. Bingo. That’s where Stiles needs to go next. The only problem is that it’s across the driveway and all the way on the other side of the mansion. Stiles is going to have to run out in the open, past the front doors of the mansion, to get to the stupid garage. It’s enough to make him break out in a cold sweat.

He really doesn’t want to do this, but he really needs a car if he has any hope of escaping. So he takes a few more breaths. Visualizes his goal again while calming down. He can do this. He totally can. He just climbed down a stupid wall, for crying out loud. All this was was a little sprint. Nothing to freak out about.

Taking one last deep breath, Stiles glances at the mansion--still empty of activity--and dashes across the driveway towards the garage. The sprint itself probably only lasted fifteen seconds at most, but by the time Stiles has his back pressed against the garage wall, hidden by the trees, he feels like hours have gone by.

It takes a good minute for him to calm down before he can actually move. He’s still shaking, but it doesn’t stop him from finding the side door to the garage. He tries the handle only to find that it’s locked. Figures. This couldn’t be that easy. He’s already on edge and his anxiety levels are nearly overflowing. He needs to get into the garage and needs to do it now. Before he has a complete breakdown.

He sighs and runs his hands roughly through his hair, throwing his head back. It’s by complete luck that the glint of a metal frame catches his eye. He moves backwards a little so he can see what’s on the roof more clearly. It’s an open sunroof that’s probably used for ventilation. Okay, he can work with that. 

Quickly spinning around he takes in the trees and figures out which one is closes to the roof. It doesn’t take him long and before he even registers what he’s doing he’s half way up the pine. The sap from the rough bark and the needles on the branches irritate his already scratched up skin, but he pushes aside the discomfort. There’s nothing to be done about it now.

He’s finally level with the roof when he stops climbing. Getting up the tree was easy, the hard part was going to be getting from the tree to the roof. He’s going to need to crawl across the tree branch that’s stretched closes to the roof and do a leap of faith. Stiles snorts at that. He’s gone from Spiderman to Indiana Jones. Oh boy.

He stands slowly up on the branch, holding another limb to keep his balance as he does a sideways shuffle towards the roof. The branch he’s standing on is strong, but the closer he gets to the roof the shakier the branch gets. He’s about a foot away from the roof when he realizes he can’t go any further on the branch. It’s just too weak to hold him. 

So this is the part where he was going to need to jump. Okay. He knew this was coming. He gulps down some air and stares resolutely at the roof. He has a great view of the open sunroof from where he’s standing. He can totally do this.

He opens his mouth and gives a silent Tarzan scream as he throws himself hard at the roof. He lands with a hard thump on his stomach, knocking the wind clear out of his lungs, and he’s almost surprised that he managed to land on the roof and not the ground. His feet and half of his lower legs are hanging off of the roof, but he made it. As soon as he gets his breath back he starts crawling up towards the open window. 

Unlike the huge mansion, the garage is only one story tall. Directly under the window is a huge SUV. It doesn’t take Stiles long to lower himself through the window, hanging by his fingertips, before he drops onto the roof of the SUV. Compared to the other falls that he’s had today this one is by far the most gentle landing. He jumps off the SUV and nearly can’t believe that he did it. He made it to the vehicles. And he hasn’t even _broken_ anything. 

This escape is probably the coolest thing he’s ever done. 

But he’s more than happy to have it over. He just wants to crawl into his _own_ werewolf-free bed and eat ice cream. 

Walking through the garage Stiles picks out the black Camaro. It’s a beautiful car and looks like the top of it’s line. Stiles practically salivates over the thought of driving it as he runs an appreciative hand over it. Yeah, he’s definitely taking that car. Fuck you, Hales.

He can’t find any car keys anywhere in the garage, but the Camaro’s doors are open so it doesn’t take Stiles long to hot wire the car. Definitely one of his more useful skills that he picked up in his childhood. One of the benefits of having a dad as a sheriff was that he got to spend a lot of time hanging around the station chatting up the officers and petty criminals that came through. And man, did they all like to talk and boast. That place had been more informative than high school.

Sliding into the driver seat feels good. Real good. A few adjustments to the seat and mirrors, a little poking around to reveal the garage door opener, and Stiles starts the car up delighted to see he has nearly a full tank of gas. That’s more than enough to get him out of here. And he knows exactly where he needs to go.

There’s only one person Stiles knows who’s scary enough to handle the entire Hale Pack.

It’s time to go see Lydia.

***

The Camaro drives like a dream. Just like Stiles thought it would. For the first time since Peter Hale yanked him into the limo yesterday Stiles feels at ease. His body is aching and throbbing, but it’s not unbearable. Nothing some Neosporin and rest can’t fix. 

When he feels like he’s far enough away that he doesn’t have to be on constant alert for any pursuers, he pulls his phone out of his pocket and hits his first speed dial.

“Hello?” A groggy voice answers gruffly. 

Stiles winces. His dad must have had a night shift. “Hey dad.”

“Stiles?” His dad is sounding more awake.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

He can practically hear the frown in his father’s voice, “What’s wrong?”

“Dad, what do you know about New York werewolf mating laws? Like, what kinds of rights do humans have if they’ve been chosen by an Alpha? Can they appeal? Or something? There has to be someway of getting out of it. Some type of loophole.” The words rush out of him in a panic. He hadn’t meant to sound so scared and desperate but there’s no controlling his voice around his father. 

There’s a pause on the line before the Sheriff’s voice comes out steady and completely alert. “Stiles. I think you better tell me everything. Now.” 

And just like that Stiles finds himself spilling the entire story out to his father. It’s a complete mess, full of word vomit and hysterical tangents, but his father stays silent through the entire thing, letting Stiles purge all his fear and confusion out.

He’s feeling completely emotionally exhausted as he concludes, “...and now I’m heading to Lydia’s place. She doesn’t know what happened, but I bet it’s already in the news that I was chosen if I’m going to judge by the amount of reporters that were at my place yesterday. I bet she has already has a good idea of what to do. At least for the short term.”

His father gives a weary sigh and Stiles just knows he’s rubbing his temples. “Jesus, Stiles, how the hell are you the only person in America who not only ignores a Mating Summons but doesn’t even _read_ it?”

“I didn’t know it was important, Dad! I hadn’t meant to throw it away...” He protests, but his dad is not having any of it.

“Bullshit. You probably had an inkling of an idea of what it was, but just like anything that’s emotionally scary you ignored it until it bites you in the ass.” His father gives another loud sigh. “I thought you had worked through those issues with your therapist already.”

“I did!” Stiles squeaks out, guilt filling his gut because his dad is right, like always.

“Obviously you didn’t, because now look at the mess you’re in. I don’t know much about Mating Laws, but I know you are suppose to respond within two months to negotiate how the claiming should proceed. By completely ignoring it you’ve given the Hale Pack authority to proceed as they see fit. A court can rule that you are not mature enough to be part of the process. I’ve heard of crazier things happen when it comes to werewolf mating laws.” 

Stiles felt his jaw drop. “You’re kidding. They can’t do that. I would be no better than a sex slave!”

His dad’s voice was hard. “When it comes to werewolves the laws aren’t always reasonable. Werewolves may once have been human, they may share many characteristics of humans, but you can’t forget that they _aren’t_ human, Stiles. They have a mindset that’s completely foreign at times to what you and I are use to. The sooner you learn that, the easier this is going to be.”

Stiles couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “So you’re saying I need to just give up? To roll over and show my belly? Are you seriously saying that, Dad?”

“No, son. I’m saying you better get yourself a damn good lawyer, because this situation is already way out of control. If you try to deal with it yourself it’s only going to end in disaster.”

“Oh.” That took the indignant wind out of his sails. Of course his dad wouldn’t want him to give up. 

“Listen, I’m going to figure something out with work. I’ll give you a call later today and let you know when I’m flying into the city. I’m thinking it’ll be tomorrow evening.”

“You’re coming to New York?” That surprised Stiles, but it also warmed him to the core, because all said and done, he needed his dad.

“You bet I am. If some pack of wolves think they can bully my son into anything then I’ll be happy to show them the wrong end of the shotgun,” the Sheriff grunted out. 

Stiles smiled happily, already feeling a million times better knowing his dad was going to be there soon. “As long as you don’t get yourself arrested, Dad. I can’t do this without you.”

“Well, you better go get that lawyer. Otherwise I can’t promise anything.”

“Okay,” Stiles said, “I’ll definitely do that. I love you, Dad. And thanks. You know. For everything. And for putting up with me.”

The Sheriff’s tone was gentle despite it’s gruffness, “I’d be a poor excuse of a father if I’m not there when you need it. I love you too, son. And just remember this when I start going senile and you’re thinking of putting me in a nursing home.”

Stiles laughs, “As if you would ever let me put you in a nursing home. Okay Dad, I’ll let you know what’s going on later. Love you.”

With that they ended their call and Stiles drove on feeling little less like the world was going to end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys! I'm so excited to write Lydia! I've started the third chapter and she's just SO MUCH FUN! I can't wait to finish it and post it.
> 
> And for any of my readers of my other story, Approaching Lightspeed, I'm working on the next chapter for it. Promise. I just hit some writers block and it's taking me a little bit of time to dislodge it. But I haven't abandoned it. :)

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know if you liked or hated the story. I'll be adding another chapter soon. I'll also be updating Approaching Lightspeed soon! 
> 
> Please let me know if you spotted any errs or if you have any comments. I appreciate every and all feedback I get. 
> 
> The title of this work is taken from the musical "Once":  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yzQ9VrnNQLQ
> 
> The play is absolutely amazing and I listen to the soundtrack at work all the time. I highly suggest it.


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